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v u l v a l i c i o u s

Will You Miss Me, My Dear? And My Wild, Wild Hair?
2002-09-10 // 1:46 p.m.

"We talk hotels, we talk whisky, underwater, overthinking."

The lines are running through my brain like leftover sink water--dirty, not very cleansing, perhaps a bit heavy. But I like it, I think.

And things are shaping up here, turning into something I like more as each day passes. The floor in my room invites me to dance, and I thank it with my feet. The windows allow in plenty of light, and I wonder if the people on the street can see me when I'm naked.

I wonder who wrote the words I can't stop thinking, if it was Bitch or Animal, or the two of them sitting together, writing the things we all feel.

"Maybe love is underwater, I am caught in the rocks."

There's a sweet, dark beauty in those words that makes me feel comforted.

My cunt, a safe haven.


i travel backwards in time, but dream of going forward - 2006-11-21
The Gentrification of a Perfectly Good Cunt - 2006-04-02
apologia, not apology - 2006-03-06
karen carpeter loops and the space time continuum - 2005-12-19
kissing like you mean it, even when you don't necessarily know what "it" is - 2005-04-16